


The Possible Mission

by orphan_account



Category: Adam-12
Genre: M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SLASH. When Pete gets bored with sex, Jim must find a way to keep his partner happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Possible Mission

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short smut piece I wrote for a tumblr friend. If you enjoy it please check out my other Adam-12 stories that actually do have a plot.

Things had been different lately. Jim couldn’t quite tell, but he knew there was something up. Even after an easy day on the watch, Pete would be tired and sleepy when they got home. When he used to be chompin’ at the bit to get Jim home and into his bed, he was now more interested in planting himself on the couch and hoping to catch the last few minutes of whatever reruns were showing that night. At first Jim told himself it was just the summer heat, making him weary and too hot to even cuddle. But he knew better than that. Even for L.A. it was never too hot for Pete to want to get him out of his clothes as soon as they made it through the door. Something was wrong.

One particular afternoon after watch, Jim watched yet again as Pete kicked off his loafers and headed for the couch as soon as they made it up the stairs and through the door. Jim watched him settle in and shook his head. Pete used to be hard to keep a handle on back when they first got together, but now, Jim just didn’t know. Wordlessly, he shuffled into the kitchen and retrieved a beer from the fridge, opening it against the edge of the counter and bringing it back out into the den.

“Is that for me?” Pete asking, barely sitting up from where he was laying.

“Yeah,” Jim sighed, handing it over.

“Ahh, ice cold,” Pete smiled sweetly, truly appreciating the effort. “Do you think you could turn the TV on for me, too? I think channel 2 is showing Hogan’s Heroes tonight.”

“Uh, Pete,” Jim perched on the edge of the couch and cleared his throat. “I was hoping, um,” he could feel himself blushing and he looked at his folded hands. “I want to…”

“What?” Pete prompted.

“I really want to have… sex” he stumbled over the word, anxious talking about it directly, even with Pete.

Pete winced. “Eh, maybe not tonight. I, uh, I’d like to catch up on some TV.”

“Again?!” Jim spat suddenly. “That’s all you ever want to do anymore, is watch TV!”

“Well,” Pete shrugged, “I’m just not in the mood. Sorry.”

Jim balled his fists. “Why?!”

“Why?” Pete slowly began to sit up. “What do you mean, why?”

“Is there something wrong?” Jim tried so speak more rationally. “Am I not good enough?”

“Jim,” Pete sighed. “You know how I feel about you. That doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Then what is it?” Jim asked. “Don’t you like to… to take me?”

Pete took a slow sip of his beer and got a far-away look about him. “I just wanna go slow with you because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jim tried to make sense of what Pete was saying. “So, is that the problem? Am I hurting you?”

“No, Jim,” Pete reached out to touch his hand reassuringly. “In fact, well, you’re a little too tender.”

“Too tender?” Jim repeated.

Pete nodded somberly. “I’m sorry, Jim. Sometimes I just don’t like such a gentle lover. I guess I’m just getting a little bored, that’s all.” He punctuated the point by standing back up and turning on the TV. “I’m gonna go get changed, and then you sit down and watch Hogan’s Heroes with me, okay?”

Jim sat silently on the couch and watched the title sequence on his own. To the sound of those familiar snare drums, he realized that he was less interesting to Pete than some dumb show he didn’t even think was that funny when he was in high school. Pete would rather watch ol’ Sgt. Schultz bumble around than make nice, gentle love with him.

It had never even occurred to Jim that there would be anything wrong with going slow and taking it easy. After all, that’s how Pete had been with him all the times he’d been on top, and he’d figured that was simply the way he enjoyed it. He was only trying to be as romantic as Pete was with him.

But romance wasn’t really what Jim wanted right now, he realized. Romance wasn’t the issue—like Pete had said, it wasn’t a matter of emotional deficiency. He knew Pete at least had some idea of how much Jim really loved him. It was the physical part he needed to prove. And oh, how he longed to prove it. It had been so long since he’d felt Pete’s hands on his shoulders and his legs around his waist. It had been such a lengthy dry spell, Jim wondered if he even could _be_ tender.

He stood up and turned off the TV just as Pete returned from the bedroom. Still pulling on his sweatpants, he said, “Hey now, I was watching that.”

Jim took a long, deep breath and tried to sound as dark as he could. “No, you weren’t.”

Pete raised his eyebrows and tilted his head ever so slightly. Not used to having Jim throwing his weight around, he said, “Oh?” with the slightest patronizing smile forming on his face.

“Yeah,” Jim said. He wasn’t sure where to even start. Officer presence on the street he could do, but sounding commanding and powerful at home? In the bedroom? “You’re not watching any more TV until… until I have my way with you.”

Pete had an obviously difficult time keeping from grinning. “Oh really?”

“Really,” Jim said. With that, he grabbed Pete by the arms and dragged him close, kissing him hard, open-mouthed, groaning at the sudden contact after so long apart.

Pete was stiff and still under his hands for a moment, but soon softened against him, leaning into the kiss, tilting his head back, letting Jim take the reins.

He wanted so badly to make Pete happy. He realized that as he backed up to the couch, pulling Pete along with him. More than he needed to feel Pete’s body under his, shaking and sweating for him, he needed to see Pete stretch and smile afterward, gazing into his eyes, telling him how much he enjoyed it.

Breaking the kiss, Jim glanced at Pete’s face. Pete certainly was smiling, and when he was sure it was okay, he thrust him back into the couch. Pete let out a hard “oof” as he fell. Jim froze, waiting for whatever disapproving thing Pete had to say.

But instead Pete said, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Jim sighed inwardly and slowly lowered himself to the couch, straddling Pete’s hips and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt as he bent to kiss him again. Already he was rock-hard. His jeans felt tighter than ever, especially when Pete’s hands moved from his back, down his sides, and then down his belly to the front of his pants. His big, rough hands fingered the zipper but he held back, waiting for Jim to make the first move.

Jim tried to think of what to do as he kissed Pete, distracted by Pete’s mouth against his, pulling in his bottom lip, letting his teeth graze the delicate skin. He shuddered against Pete’s body but made himself stop and sit back. Looking down at Pete’s face, he could barely force himself to speak.

“Lose the shirt,” he ordered, even if it came out as more of a whisper than a snarl.

Pete grinned his sweet, crooked grin and did as Jim said, squirming under the weight of him as he pulled himself out of the tight, white cotton. He tossed the shirt aside and laid back, waiting for Jim’s next move. Jim ran his hands over Pete’s broad, freckled chest, his own breath catching at just the sight of him. How hard it was to keep himself in check, especially when he was going out of his way to make this about Pete instead. Gingerly, he bent down and moved his lips over Pete’s chin and down his neck, kissing his collarbone and shoulder.

Pete let out a small sigh, digging his fingers into Jim’s hair, pressing his face against his skin. “There,” he sighed, directing him to the crook of his neck. Jim’s heart raced. He parted his lips and ran his tongue over the spot, pausing afterward to wait for Pete’s response. Pete shook his head slowly and tilted his head back further.

“Harder,” he mumbled.

Jim gulped and tried again, grazing the skin with his teeth. At this Pete let out a solid groan, pushing his hips up against Jim’s body. That kind of encouragement was enough to drive Jim up the wall. Hoping for the best, he bit him again, this time more than just a little nip. Sucking hard on the soft skin, he knew he was leaving a bruise big enough for someone to notice in the locker room the next day, and big enough to be very unbecoming of a law enforcement officer. He stopped and pulled back, worriedly glancing at Pete’s neck.

Pete’s eyes were closed and he touched the dark spot, his chest rising and falling steadily.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked, knowing it sounded stupid but still concerned enough to ask.

Pete opened his eyes and glared back at him, letting him know exactly how stupid the question was. “Do I look like I’m havin’ any trouble here?” he asked.

Jim looked over him, knowing he shouldn’t have even said anything. The body beneath him might have been older, by fourteen whole years even, but it was still a sturdy body. Underneath an inch of fat and tired, aging skin, there were still firm muscles, strong as iron bands. Pete had had fourteen extra years to endure the harsh environment that came with a job like theirs, and even if those years showed on the outside, he was man enough on the inside that it didn’t matter.

“Come on,” Pete grunted, sitting up as far as he could with Jim still sitting on him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

Jim nodded, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him back onto the couch, meeting his eyes for only a moment before returning to his lips, digging in hard enough with his teeth that he could taste the coppery sting of blood on his tongue. With a red smear on the corner of his mouth, Pete smiled up at him, and it wasn’t long before Jim could feel that those ratty old sweatpants were getting as tight on him as his own jeans.

Hating to part for even a moment, he clambered off of Pete and stood, tearing off his own shirt as fast as he could. Pete was already working on his sweatpants, but Jim took over for him, easing them over his hips, running his thumbs over the soft curve of Pete’s belly.

Pete was more than ready for him, the dark, dusky skin stretched thin over his hard, curved cock. Almost instinctively Jim wanted to take him in his mouth, but he forced himself away, yanking off the sweatpants and throwing them on the floor as he stood up.

He trembled and tried to will himself to be as rough and forceful as Pete wanted, but it wasn’t in his nature. It was all he could do to meet Pete’s eyes. “I want you to… to, uh,” he stammered, not even sure if he knew how to ask for it, let alone make Pete do it.

But Pete knew how to play along nonetheless. Completely naked, he sat upright on the couch and wrapped his enormous hands around Jim’s hips, pulling him close enough to run his lips over the front of his pants. “This?” he asked, looking up at him, getting so into it he even dropped the amused smile.

“Y-yeah,” Jim grunted, almost losing it right there seeing Pete like that. Not once in the whole time they’d been together, no matter how many times Pete had laid on his back for him, parted his legs for him, had Jim ever felt like Pete wasn’t completely in charge. It was the way Jim wanted it, certainly. Pete was fourteen years his senior and significantly more experienced. He wanted Pete calling the shots, in the patrol car and in the bedroom. But still, somehow, seeing Pete gazing up at him as he unbuttoned his jeans, letting himself be bitten and thrown about… it was new and different, and Jim found that he couldn’t help but like it.

Pete, unaware of Jim’s pondering, kept going. With Jim’s jeans down to his knees, he smoothed his hands over the front of his shorts, digging in big, thick fingers around him, rubbing him through the thin fabric. His face was so tantalizingly close Jim could feel his hot breath. Getting back into it despite his nerves, he pulled down his underwear and gingerly laid his hand on Pete’s shoulder. He couldn’t force anything, even if he wanted to, and he hoped Pete could understand that.

But it didn’t seem to be a problem. Parting his lips, Pete easily took the first few inches in his mouth, slowing down the further he got. Jim had never thought of himself as particularly large, but Pete swore up and down that he was. How many times before had they been into it, and Pete would cough and gag on him, laughing and shaking his head.

“Sorry,” Jim would say time and again, only to be silenced.

“You’re a big boy,” Pete would say, almost proudly. “Don’t apologize for what God gave you.”

Now, Jim knew he had to bite his tongue. Pete didn’t want him to be tender. Pete didn’t want to hear an apology. Closing his eyes he let his hand creep up to the back of Pete’s head, feeling that feather-soft blonde hair under his touch and Pete’s hot, slick mouth around his dick. Maybe he _was_ pretty big, but Pete was good, real good. All those extra years of experience meant a lot. Truth be told, what mattered more to him than even the fantastic feeling of having such a skilled lover was that it was _Pete_. It meant so much to him that Pete was not only willing to do something like this, but wanted to.

“Pete,” Jim sighed at what Pete was doing to him. “Ohh, Pete.”

“Mmph,” Pete spat him out and shook his head. “You wanna keep going?”

“I want to do whatever you want to do,” Jim said.

Ignoring Jim’s blabbering, Pete turned around on the couch, bending his torso over the back of it, parting his legs. He put his fingers in his mouth and then brought them around, spreading his spit over himself.

“Are you sure that’s gonna be enough?” Jim asked, hesitant. Pete had gotten his dick plenty wet, but still in him was that fear of causing Pete any kind of pain. “Do you want me to go get-,”

“Dammit, Jim,” Pete grunted, bending his back, thrusting his hips toward him. “Just fuck me already.”

Jim nearly gasped at the word, but he knew that Pete wanted him to be just as rough and crude. “Alright,” he stuttered, taking hold of himself and pushing in as gently as he could. He could feel Pete’s body resisting with the poor lubrication and he stopped short of even the head.

“Come _on_ ,” Pete said, reaching back, grabbing at Jim’s hip.

Jim took a hesitant breath and thrust in as hard as he could, crying out before he could stop himself. As much as it bothered him, he couldn’t imagine how it felt for Pete. Desperately trying to steady himself despite the conflicting waves of pleasure and concern, he looked at Pete and tried to tell if he was okay.

Pete’s head was thrown back and he snarled through clenched teeth, his sides heaving with each deep breath.  Balancing on his knees, he turned back and mustered that old smile again. His voice rumbled low and hard. “I _know_ you can do better than that,” he growled between breaths.

“I…” Jim shook all over, partially from just not knowing exactly how much Pete wanted, and partially because of the way he could feel Pete’s body loosening and accepting him. He was ready for whatever Jim could dish out, and he wanted his very best. “A-alright,” Jim gnashed his teeth right back at Pete. “Alright.”

He pulled back again and thrust in hard, feeling Pete’s body shake under his. Pete groaned and pushed back against him. The dry friction made Jim shudder with each slow, steady movement. Beads of sweat ran down his face and he could feel his hair sticking to his forehead. It was so hard to focus on being steady and rough, especially as good as it felt, and he could feel himself losing his steam quick.

“Come on, faster,” Pete’s voice was a harsh snarl. He let his weight fall to one shoulder as he moved his other hand to stroke himself, setting the pace that he wanted Jim to keep. Jim tried to reach around and take over for Pete, but he shook his head angrily. “I’ll do it.”

“But Pete,” Jim paused, trying to catch his breath.

“And don’t stop, either!” Pete barked, arching his back, urging Jim to continue.

The Pete he knew and loved was really starting to show. Jim wasn’t in charge anymore, and he was just fine with that. Knowing it was just a matter of time until Pete would be satisfied and happy, he reeled back and slammed in again, holding Pete by the hips, pounding so hard his own hips started to hurt. Pete groaned and swore, twisting his hand faster and harder as they both drew nearer and nearer. With his last ounces of energy Jim dug his fingers in tight and bore into Pete as hard as he could. Pete shouted out loud and his hand flew to his face as he writhed and came onto the couch cushions.

Oh, it had been so long since Jim had heard Pete make a noise like that, since he’d seen his face screw up like that, since he’d seen his completion drip under him like that. Jim whimpered and tried to keep going, his muscles tensing up tight as he came. Again was that hot coppery taste, this time from his own mouth as he bit his lip. He groaned in exhaustion and released Pete’s hips, struggling to pull out before they both collapsed, Pete landing on the couch and Jim letting himself sprawl out onto the floor, finally kicking his pants off from his ankles.

Panting, gasping for breath for what seemed like forever, Jim lay on top of their clothes and reeled, hardly a step away from seeing stars. When he eventually started to cool down, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Pete.

Pete lay on his stomach with a leg hanging off the cough. Dark bruises were already starting to show down his thighs and on his hips where Jim’s hands had been. A blissful, euphoric grin covered his face.

“So that’s what I missed Hogan’s Heroes for, huh?” Pete muttered sleepily, rubbing his eyes, trying to stay awake.

“Yup,” Jim smirked. “And tomorrow you’re gonna miss I Spy, and then you’re gonna miss Bewitched…”

“Well,” Pete shrugged, “that’s why they have reruns.”


End file.
